By: Jon Reene

A poem should be equal to what I find engaging
the way the scene keeps shifting around
The first couple stanzas thrown down
For all of a sudden the iron mask represents
The barrier between the author and me
distorting reason from my intrigued mind
Deeper and deep er I search for meaning
immediately the poem embraces my kind
giving me dreams of this very clear picture
The sands of time now run out on class
as my image of this poem shatters like glass

There is little doubt, however, that
his name preyed upon his mind.